


Suffer

by mugglerock



Series: Through the Rift [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Bottom Dean, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Heartbreak, Heartbreaking, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry Castiel, Impala Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Please Don't Hate Me, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Songfic, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugglerock/pseuds/mugglerock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean was three sheets to the wind the first time he kissed Castiel. His breath heavy and sweet with fermented sugar cane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suffer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anyrei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/gifts).



> Dreaded song!fic. Based on Charlie Puth's "Suffer". Hauntingly beautiful.  
> Unbeta'd so any mistakes caught, please let me know.  
> P.S. Heed the tags.

_"I'm just a sucker_

_For a cold-hearted lover...”_

  


Dean was three sheets to the wind the first time he kissed Castiel. His breath heavy and sweet with fermented sugar cane. The kiss was rough, almost violent. When he pulled back, his glossy green eyes were almost entirely black from how blown his pupils were. Reminiscent of his brief time as a demon.

 

Castiel searched the hunter's face, trying to find answers, a direction, a way out of the forest of confusion and denial Dean had led them to. He had wanted this for years. Years upon years. When he fell in love with the righteous man all of those years ago, Castiel was content to look and to dream, he was content with what scraps of affection he was able to pick up from the floor, because nothing would ever occur between them. It hurt, but if he had to choose between unrequited love for a man who would never reciprocate, or losing all contact with said man. Well, no contest.

 

The hunter's face was relaxed, yet determined. Castiel received no answers, no map, nothing. Dean pushed Castiel down on the bed of the dirty motel room they booked a few hours earlier for the hunt. Sam was at the library and could walk through the door at any moment. The thrill of possibly getting caught exhilarated him almost as much as having the object of his desires, his obsession, his _everything,_ crawling into his lap with the languid ease of a feline.

 

Dean growled as he ripped the button of Castiel's pants open. No foreplay, no easing into it, he pulled Castiel's cock out through the slot of his boxers and stroked in pace with his grinding. Castiel gasped and tangled his fingers into the dirty blond mop on the head of his friend. Scratch that. His _lover._

 

His grip tightened and he got lost in Dean's mouth. The pleasure Castiel felt was palpable, despite the pain of being stroked dry. As if the hunter read his mind, he pulled away and crawled down the bed until his mouth was at Castiel's waist.

 

"Dean?" A husky and soft question. He wasn't all that experienced in sex. Was the hunter changing his mind, what was expected of him?

 

"I haven't done this in a long time..." Was all of the answer Castiel received before his erection was enveloped in the wicked heat of Dean Winchester's mouth.

 

Castiel's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he bucked upward, Dean easily taking his length through the jerky movements. Castiel's breath came out in throaty pants as he tried to not explode into the hunter's mouth.

 

When he let out a pathetic moan, Dean pulled off and gently ordered, "Don't come until you're inside me."

 

Castiel bit his lip to prevent reaching orgasm from the projected image alone. He instantly felt the loss when Dean got up from the bed. He watched in anticipation as the younger man rifled through his duffel bag and smiled lewdly as he presented some lubrication.

 

"Ever been with a man, Cas?" At the tentative shake of his head, Dean shrugged and continued, "Okay, watch me."

 

Before he could ask why, Dean was shimmying out of his jeans and briefs. Castiel groaned, Dean was utterly beautiful. He was sharp and angled in all of the right places as well as being soft where he needed to be.

 

The hunter crawled onto the bed and sprawled himself out; his knees on the bed, hunched over with spread legs in front of Castiel. He parted his cheeks with one hand, presenting his entrance in a tantalizing tease.

 

Castiel doesn't recall seeing the hunter put lube on his digits, but he must have done when one, two, three fingers slipped into Dean's entrance, stretching him at a maddeningly slow pace.

 

He crawled over to Castiel, who was sprawled out on his back against the headboard, his cock poking through his boxers and barely opened pants. Dean pulled them both down far enough to free his erection, but keeping the garments wrapped around his knees, essentially trapping him.

 

Castiel couldn't help but think that if he had to be trapped, this was by far the best means. Without fanfare, affection, or asking of permission, Dean slicked Castiel's cock with the lubrication and slid slowly, agonizingly slowly, onto his sex.

 

They shared a groan at the overwhelming heat they were creating. Once Dean got acclimated to Castiel's girth, he started to ride him at a frantic pace. There were cries and groans and utterly filthy begging from the hunter. Castiel came undone and Dean gripped his own erection, falling down the rabbit hole of ecstasy shortly after.

 

Dean got up and grabbed a couple of washcloths from the bathroom. He tossed one to Castiel as he wiped the sticky semen from his stomach.

 

After some tense silence, Castiel asked, "What was that?"

 

Dean shrugged. "We've both been tense lately, thought this might help."

 

"I thought you preferred women?" He _had_ to ask. One of the many reasons he had come to accept he may never have more with Dean was the man's staunch heterosexuality.

 

"I do. M'not gay."

 

And that was that. Sam walked in a few minutes later, ceasing all discussion from that point forward. Castiel was left feeling even more confused than he had before.

  


_“You make me suffer_

_You make me suffer_

_Don't keep me waiting_

_You should come over…”_

  


Castiel came to understand that what Dean and he had was called, ‘friends with benefits’. The hunter had made it clear that feelings were not to get involved. It was just about sex. But Castiel assumed if he could lie to Dean about his plans for purgatory, then he could absolutely lie to the man about the fact that he was irretrievably in love with him.

 

He was enlightened to the facets of their relationship the second time they had sex. Castiel had assumed their first union was going to be a one-off, a magical and passion filled night to remain in the recesses of their memories. He was pleasantly surprised to discover he was incorrect.

 

It had been one hell of a night, they cut it pretty close while facing a couple of shapeshifters, but in the end, Team Free Will vanquished the monsters. Sam had basically passed out the second his head hit the smelly motel room pillow. Dean was feeling restless and told Castiel he was going for a drive, his voice dangling at the end of the sentence, an unspoken invitation to join him.

 

The drive was remarkably peaceful. The only sounds being the rush of the wind as Dean sped down an open and abandoned highway in the middle of the night, accompanied by the lilting voice of Geddy Lee. Castiel felt himself reach a level of mindfulness enviable by even the Dalai Lama. His meditation was interrupted by Dean pulling off on a turnout, killing the engine and the lights. Before he could question the hunter’s motives, he was tackled, the passenger side door console pressing painfully into his back as Dean practically crawled into Castiel’s lap.

 

This kiss was a little gentler than their first, but still laced with a desperation and solemnity that shook Castiel’s world. The walls he had slowly began to build around his heart were shattered with that wrecking ball of a kiss.

 

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Dean breathed against Castiel’s lips, eliciting a guttural moan of appreciation in return.

 

As they continued to nip and suck at each other’s lips, Dean fumbled with the buckle of Castiel’s pants and managed to free his painfully hard erection. He was unable to stop the growl that erupted from his chest cavity when he lost the perfection of Dean Winchester’s lips. He was appeased with a low chuckle and a humming around his cock when the man sucked him down like it was his destiny.

 

The oral pleasure was halted momentarily as Dean yanked the handle of the door at Castiel’s back, forcing it open and gently ushering him out of the car. He was momentarily worried that perhaps he had displeased his lover, but it was short-lived. He stood, back still pressed against the now open door. Dean crawled out of the vehicle and stepped onto the dirt side road. Without pomp and circumstance, he dropped to his knees and proceeded to continue his worship of Castiel’s erection.

 

When Castiel thought he might just come apart at the seams, the hunter stopped his ministrations. He pulled back and proceeded to coat his cock in copious amounts of saliva. At the bemused glance given to Dean, the hunter shrugged. “I forgot to grab lube.”

 

Castiel was mesmerized as he watched Dean yank his own pants down just enough to reveal an ass Michelangelo would have wept over, leaning himself across the front seat of his car. The angel stared at what was being offered, unable to move until he heard a gruff, “Fuck me, Cas.”

 

Cock in hand, he guided his member to Dean’s entrance, surprised at how easily he was able to slide in. That meant Dean was being stretched regularly. The images that thought conjured elicited a deep groan from his chest. Dean Winchester had been stretching himself in preparation for this.

 

Dean’s knuckles went white as he gripped the sides of the seat, adjusting to the girth of Castiel, pants and soft moans slowly erupting from his lips. Castiel’s pace was slow, determined, angled in order to provide his lover as much pleasure as possible from their union.

 

“Harder,” Dean begged, breath coming out in ragged pants.

 

Castiel was nothing if not obedient when it came to Dean Winchester. He buried himself to the hilt, pulling his cock in and out at a more devoted pace, striking the man’s prostate with every vigorous thrust. Dean cried out in between deliciously filthy epithets of appreciation for Castiel’s ministrations. The hunter tightened around Castiel’s sex when his orgasm struck without ever touching his own erection. The constriction, the utterly debauched image of taking Dean on a very open highway, all of it pushed him over his own edge until he saw nothing but white stars.

 

After collecting themselves, Castiel using his “mojo” to eradicate the mess they had made, the pair of them resumed their original positions in the vehicle and made their way back to the motel. Castiel couldn’t bear it, he had to ask, “What are we?”

 

A pregnant pause left Castiel’s heart in his throat, he waited with baited breath for whatever answer Dean was about to give. “Ever heard of friends with benefits?” he finally asked.

 

Castiel shook his head, and when he was enlightened, it was as wonderful and haunting as he expected it to be.

  


_“Don't make me suffer_

_Don't make me suffer…”_

  


It killed Castiel every time Dean would pull him aside when they had the privacy for a rough and briefly perfect union behind an abandoned house, in an alleyway, or whenever Sam managed to leave them alone. He loved every minute he got to touch, to feel, to kiss, to taste, to get lost. But it came with a price. Every touch cost Castiel a piece of his heart when the cold human would surround his sex with heat. When he would pull off of him, renouncing any semblance of straying on the Kinsey scale. Every time it happened Castiel felt lost, abandoned.

 

But every moment of grief was worth it, for those infinitesimal blips that flashed across the metaphorical heart monitor. When Dean would hold his hand, or the rare occasion when they would share a stolen kiss. Castiel lived… _breathed_ for those moments.

 

What hurt more than anything though was the hope the encounters left him with. Every single time Dean yanked him close, enveloping him in arms, lips, and sex; Castiel felt the flower of hope bloom in his chest. Despite the hunter’s adamant whispers of his heterosexuality, the meaninglessness of their encounters, it was so easy to forget those words when he had the man’s sex in his hand and lips on his face. It was far too easy to get lost in a world of love, of possibility, of a future with a man he had been so mercilessly in love with for almost a decade.

 

If he just waited out the denial and hangups of his beloved hunter, surely he would eventually see what was in front of him, right?

 

Fate truly was one cruel, unforgiving bitch.

  


_“I'm just a sucker_

_For a cold-hearted lover_

_You make me suffer_

_You make me suffer…”_

  


Her name was Elizabeth. A beautiful, blonde, huntress. She knew the life. Had a mouth that would make a sailor blush, and the aim of a cupid. A femme fatale for the world of supernatural beings and utterly perfect for Dean Winchester.

 

What was worse, Dean thought so, too. The pair fell in love after three months of dating. They were engaged to be wed after seven months of dating. And within the year, they were married because, as Dean had told Castiel, “Life was too short.”

 

Castiel watched, with broken dreams and an even more broken heart, the man he had loved and will _always_ love, marry another. Hell, he agreed to stand beside him in the makeshift chapel at the county clerk’s office where they signed the paperwork and she took the last name, ‘Winchester’. Because that’s what best friends do. He swallowed the bitter pill of jealousy that left a most unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth.  

 

Castiel had been betrayed by people he counted as family, he had been used as a means to an end several times over, he had been manipulated, attacked, killed, and none of it compared to the unadulterated pain of watching the man he loved pledge his love to another. He would take the pain of torture for an eternity over and over in its stead if he could.

 

The night of the wedding, while the married couple were consummating their union, Castiel made a decision. He packed what little items he had to his name, left a note for Sam and Mary, and left the bunker. He tossed his cell phone into the garbage can, unable to bring himself to attempt to say goodbye to the only family he had known for... hell, the significant portion of his lifetime.

 

Dean had found happiness, true and unequivocal happiness. And in the end, isn’t that all he could have ever hoped for?

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful, beautiful, amazing [Anyrei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/anyrei/pseuds/anyrei) has been challenging me in so many ways, particularly my hang-ups with writing smut. 
> 
> I was on a long plane ride back to the states and typed this porny angst fest on my phone, so clearly, I have to dedicate it to my muse. Love you, my German wife! I'm sorry for any feels incurred due to my inability to give characters happy endings.


End file.
